Treat Her Right
by alynwa
Summary: Illya is offended by someone's rudeness to a friend.


Napoleon and Illya were walking from Washington Square Park toward the Russian's apartment on an early spring day. They had been in the office that Saturday for a few hours to complete their mission report and then hopped into a cab downtown to a diner they both liked for lunch. Ahead of them on the corner was a newsstand.

"That is the newsstand that Edna works in," Illya said, "I want to buy a paper and say hello."*

"Sure," Napoleon replied, "Why not." He had met Illya's neighbor when she and Illya, or as she knows the Russian, "Eddie," were sitting on the stoop of their building. Illya had introduced him as "Navarre," his alter ego's name. He had teased his partner as much as he dared because Edna had credited him with helping her find love again.

As they approached the corner, a man who appeared to be around their age came around the corner from the opposite direction. "Good afternoon," they heard Edna say to him.

"Nevermind," came the rude reply, "Just give me the Times and the Wall Street Journal!"

"Of course," she answered as she placed the papers in front of her customer, "That will be…"

"I know how much it is!" he snapped as he slammed change on the counter so hard it bounced off and hit the floor inside the newsstand. He snatched his papers up and turned to go only to find his way blocked by a short, blond and very angry looking man who had a taller equally angry looking brunet man standing behind him. He quickly decided to bluff his way past. "What do you want?"

The blond leaned in and said softly, "I want you to apologize for your boorish behavior toward that woman. She works very hard for her money and you need to treat her with respect."

The man drew himself up to his full height which was a good three inches taller than Illya. "And if I don't? What the hell are _you_ going to do about it? Get your friend there to beat me up?"

Napoleon chuckled and said, "Buddy, you've screwed up now," as he moved slightly to the side to give Illya room.

"If you do not," Illya stated calmly as he pulled his communicator from his inner jacket pocket, "I will place those newspapers of yours somewhere you do not want them to be." Moving lightning fast, he jammed the device between the man's index and middle fingers and grabbed them and squeezed, causing the man such excruciating pain he dropped to his knees. "After I break your fingers, of course." He squeezed a little harder. "Is there anything you care to tell her?"

"Ow! Alright!"

Illya eased the pressure enough to allow the man to stand up, though he did not release his grip. "Miss, I'm…very sorry I was so disrespectful. I didn't treat you right. I apologize."

Edna, who had been standing dumbfounded, said, "Oh, um, yes. I accept your apology. Thank you." She looked at her neighbor. "You can let him go. Please."

Illya immediately released him. "I should call a cop on you," the man muttered as he turned to walk away only to find his way blocked again. "Now what? I said I was sorry!"

Napoleon let the storm rise in his eyes. "That is what _he_ wanted. What _I_ want is for you to pick up the money you threw at her." He looked at Edna. "Miss, if you would be so kind as to open the door and step out here for a moment? This ' _gentleman_ ' wants to pick up that change for you." The look he threw the man was positively murderous. " _Don't_ you?"

Edna had considered asking "Navarre" to just let the man go, but the look on his face had frightened _her_ so she just complied. Once she was standing on the sidewalk, Napoleon shoved the man inside while at the same time lifting his wallet from his back pocket.

"Hey! What are you doing?" the man asked when he realized Napoleon had his wallet though he decided the best course of action for him was to pick up the change. He stood up and carefully placed it on the counter. "That's my wallet!"

"Indeed, it is, Mr. James Franklin. I just wanted to look at your license," Napoleon said as he showed it to Illya. "My friend and I both have photographic memories and if this very nice lady ever complains about you to us, we will come see you."

"And," Illya added, "if you call the police on us, we will _definitely_ come to see you and you will not like it."

Napoleon handed the man his wallet back. "Have a good day, Mr. Franklin." They watched as Mr. Franklin hurried down the street and around the corner.

"I've been working this newsstand for twenty – eight years and I've had customers rude enough to bring me to tears, but I've never had anyone stand up for me like that ever. I don't want you boys to get into trouble on my account, but I really appreciate the fact that you did. Eddie, you're so sweet; I would have never thought you capable of hurting anyone."

"I will not stand by while you are being abused by anyone, Edna. You are good to me and that is important to me."

Edna smiled at this interesting young man who had changed her life by encouraging her to be social again. "When I get home from work in a few hours, I'm going to make you some of that stew you like. There'll be enough for you, too, Navarre. Thank you both."

Illya paid for the newspaper he wanted. "You're welcome. See you later."

As they continued their walk Napoleon opined, "Good deal, stand up for a damsel in distress and get some dinner out of it. Not bad at all."

Illya snorted, "What was that nonsense you spouted to Franklin? 'We both have photographic memories?' Since when?"

"Well, maybe I laid it on a bit thick, but I don't want cops looking for us. Again. Mr. Waverly really dislikes having to speak to the Police Commissioner about his agents. Besides, _you_ assaulted the man, I wanted to make sure he doesn't file a complaint against you."

"My hero."

*ref. "Eddie and Edna"


End file.
